e to cats," she said, rising. "Spinsterhood" we like to call
it. 'Single-blessedness!'"

"That is your kind heart. You decline to make one of us happy to the
despair of all the rest."

She laughed at this, though with no very genuine mirth, I marked, and
let my 1830 attempt at gallantry pass without other retort.

"You seemed interested in the old place yonder." She indicated Mr.
Beasley's house with a nod.

"Oh, I understood my blunder," I said, quickly. "I wish I had known the
subject was embarrassing or unpleasant to Mr. Dowden."

"What made you think that?"

"Surely," I said, "you saw how pointedly he cut me off."

"Yes," she returned, thoughtfully. "He rather did; it's true. At least,
I see how you got that impression." She seemed to muse upon this,
letting her eyes fall; then, raising them, allowed her far-away gaze to
rest upon the house beyond the fence, and said, "It IS an interesting
old place."

"And Mr. Beasley himself--" I began.

"Oh," she said, "HE isn't interesting. That's hi

Reader Reviews

A sweet story. Although his fiancee found him dull and unimaginative and dumped him, genial Dave Beasley, a man of few words, seems a shoe-in for the governorship. But then he begins to talk to people who aren't there.